


Interview with the Demon

by siephilde42



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Doctor Who reference, Don’t copy to another site, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Quote from the TV show, Yes I'm silly, rated T for some swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 04:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20539805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siephilde42/pseuds/siephilde42
Summary: After Aziraphale has kissed him and drastically backpedalled, Crowley cannot hold his feelings in anymore and decides to pour his heart out to two radio moderators.





	Interview with the Demon

**Author's Note:**

> This story is basically an alternative take on my story "Wrong, So Wrong" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780855). Since Crowley explains to the moderators what has happened, it is not necessary to read it beforehand.

Crowley shifted his head and groaned in pain. "Ugh. Why didn't I miracle myself sober?" _Because this would have meant that you would feel the emotional pain in its entire strength_, the nasty voice in his head answered. With some effort, he managed to get up from the floor. He felt like shit. All of his muscles ached, and now that he was awake, the full force of what had happened hit him once again. _Blasted angel. I cannot believe you did that. And now you're not even calling. Goddamn you. _

With a jerk, he brought himself into a more straight position and staggered towards his green room. "Bloody bastards", he yelled at them, "get your shit together. Man... Plant up! I don't want to see any drooping branches!" With gravity-defying fear, the plants brought their twigs and leaves into seemingly impossible constellations. "That's better. Stay that way if you don't want to die", the demon growled.

After shooting some menacing glances around the room to emphasise the message, he left for the kitchen, considering for a brief moment taking a new wine bottle from the cupboard. _No_, he decided. _Won't really make me feel better. _He pinched his forehead. _Well, what will? _Without thinking, he made his way to the living room.

His glance wandered to the phone lying on the table. _I should call him, shouldn't I?_, the more reasonable part of him pondered. _No_, the nasty voice chimed in, _you don't know if he wants to talk to you. He was appalled at what he had done, wasn't he? _Millennia of self-guessing and self-belittling won over, and instead of picking up the phone and dialling the angel's number, the demon sank down into the throne, burying his head in his hands.

_Great. Just great. The person I would usually talk to about my problems is the one I cannot talk to right now. Maybe I should have maintained some friendships with humans. _"Now, that's ridiculous. I tried that for a while. And it hurt like hell to lose them, every time", he said aloud, now resting his chin on his hands. "Doesn't change the fact that I have no one to talk to now. No one who can reply, at least." He gave a deep sigh.

Suddenly, he remembered something. Some months ago, he had listened to a radio program in the car. What had the name of the program been, again? The first thing that came to mind was the intro. "The program for mending broken hearts, famous for the interview with the doctor who was in love with a rose. Whenever the heart ache gets too much, you can call us and tell us everything. We will help as much as we are able to. Even if we cannot give advice, we promise we will listen to you." The name popped up in his head. "The Nice and Helpful Radio Program. That was it." _Well. It cannot hurt, can it? At least not more that it already does. _He picked up the phone, looked up the number of the radio program and dialled. The program was not scheduled for this time of day, but if you are a demon of certain time-bending talents, that will not pose a problem for you.

"Hello, here is Neil. How can we help you?"

Crowley took a deep breath before answering. "Well. Hello. Here's Anthony. And I... I'm in love with my best friend." _There. I said it. _

"I see. Now, what's the problem with that?"

"Um, he kissed me and...", he broke off, hands fidgeting with the gemstones embedded in the arm rest.

"But that sounds good? Could you explain why that is problematic?"

"Well, okay, he kissed me and then _backpedalled. _He said... he said literally 'That's wrong. So wrong. I shouldn't have done that. I'm so sorry.'" His breath hitched, and for a moment he was afraid he would burst into tears. "He... he did all that so fast that I couldn't even react. Before I could return the kiss, he pulled away, and before I could collect myself enough to say something, he _fled. _Just ran."

"I see", Neil replied, and this time he did. "Okay. That does sound bad. Have you talked to him since that happened?"

"No. He hasn't called in two weeks. And I didn't dare call him or drop in on him, either."

"Hm."

Another voice chimed in, older than Neil's voice. "Terry speaking. That is quite a mess. May I ask how long you have been in love with your friend, dear fellow?"

Ignoring the pang his heart gave at the words 'dear fellow', Crowley answered. "Six... Sixteen years."

"That is a long time. What do you think his issue is? Internalised homophobia?", Terry asked.

Despite himself, Crowley almost laughed. "No. No, that's not it. Doesn't play any role for him or me. No, it's... we are so different. Um. He's a real angel, you see."

"So you think he's too good for you?", the elder man enquired.

"Yes. Yes, he is. I mean, in comparison... I'm a demon."

"You really should not think that lowly of yourself, you know", Neil interjected.

Crowley chuckled. "Well. I cannot help it." _Because it's the goddamn truth. _

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. It was the younger man who spoke up. "Um, if he gave you the impression that you are not enough for him, if that is the essence of your relationship, then maybe you should move on."

Terry protested. "Neil, no. Sixteen years? You don't just flush sixteen years of love down the drain. My dear Anthony, you should at least call him and ask him what he meant. I mean, 'That's wrong' doesn't necessarily mean 'It's wrong for me to kiss you.' Maybe it was just a misunderstanding."

Crowley sighed. "If only."

The elder moderator carried on. "Listen, Anthony, I want you to promise me that as soon as we end that call, you call him and ask him to talk. The longer you wait to resolve the situation, the worse it will get."

Rationally, Crowley knew Terry was right. But the nasty voice in the back of his mind was constantly trying to drown out Terry's advice. _He'll never love you. He can't._

"Um. I...", the demon replied.

"Just promise me."

"I, I..." Before Crowley could make up his mind to promise Terry anything or refuse to, there was a knock at the door.

*** Some minutes earlier ***

Aziraphale caught himself glancing on the phone, which was now, thanks to Adam's reinvention of reality, a smartphone. Apparently the not-more-antichrist had thought a slight modernisation in order. _Should I call_ _him?_, he wondered, once again. The demon hadn't called in two weeks, and every time he thought about how they had parted, he felt sick to his stomach.

Instead of calling Crowley, Aziraphale decided to start the radio app the nice shop assistant had recommended when he had bothered her about a week ago because he had had no idea how to handle the phone. He liked to listen to classical music to soothe his nerves, and if the schedule had been as usual, that would have been what he heard. What he did hear was another radio program. "The program for mending..." Confused, he stared at his phone. _What the... _Fumbling with the phone, he tried to close the app. He did manage to close it, but opened it again by accident. And then, he heard a familiar voice. "Well. Hello. Here's Anthony." _Wait. What? _

*** Now ***

"Uh... Neil, Terry, hang on. Someone just knocked." Phone still in hand, Crowley walked over and opened the door, revealing an angel with a very red face, evidently out of breath.

"Wha...", Crowley started, then broke off and just stared at his friend.

"Everything alright, Anthony?", Terry asked, and when Crowley heard Terry's voice from Aziraphale's phone too, it clicked.

"Uh, I don't know, honestly", the demon answered, turning around and walking back into the flat, creating a distance between himself and the angel.

"I need to hang up now. He's here. He heard the radio program", Crowley explained.

"Who?", Terry asked.

"The... my angel", Crowley said and hung up. _My angel? Just how stupid are you? He heard that. _

With a horrified look, he watched Aziraphale coming in, who was still holding his side.

"Ow. I'm not made for running", the angel groaned.

"Angel..." Crowley could not believe how desperate his own voice sounded.

"How can someone so clever as you be so stupid?", Aziraphale asked.

"I... I'm sorry?", the demon stammered.

"Okay. I suppose it's my fault. What with me saying 'there is no _our side_', and all that. But I really thought you knew me better than that", the angel continued. "Uh, I'm sorry. It's definitely entirely my fault. I really shouldn't put part of the blame on you. How could you have known? I'm to blame for all of this. I..."

"You... you are rambling", Crowley pointed out in a very quiet voice.

"Yes, I am. Sorry. What I mean to say is, that human was right. A misunderstanding. When I said 'that's wrong', I meant that I should not have kissed you without permission. That's _all _I meant by that."

Crowley stared at him. "But..."

"But what, my dear?"

"But, angels and demons shouldn't..." His voice almost broke. "_Fraternise_", he brought out.

To his utter surprise, the angel _laughed_. Laughed louder than he had ever heard him laugh.

"Fraternise? What do you think we have been doing since Eden?" He smiled at Crowley. "I would dare say that it's a tad late to stop... _fraternising_."

"Yes, but... I mean, that's something else entirely. You really shouldn't... You might fall."

"I doubt that", the angel replied, now standing quite close to him. "If I was going to fall, I think I would have fallen the moment you handed me the books. Because that's when I couldn't deny it any more."

With both hope and anxiousness, Crowley asked "Couldn't deny _what _anymore?"

Instead of answering, the angel closed the gap between them and kissed him again. This time, he did not go too fast for Crowley, and the demon could, finally, return it.

"That I had fallen for you", Aziraphale said, when they broke the kiss.

Crowley shook his head in disbelief. "That's a incredibly poor choice of words, angel."

Aziraphale smirked.

*** At the radio station ***

"Do you think they sorted it out?", Neil asked.

Terry shrugged his shoulders, putting on his black scarf and hat. "I hope so. I mean, apparently, the... angel hurried over to Anthony's home. Would he have done that if he didn't return the feelings?"

"Suppose not. Let's hope for the best. It would be awful if sixteen years of pining had been for nothing."

"Yeah. Let's call it a day."

*** At Crowley's flat ***

"Crowley, dear?"

"Yes, angel?"

"When he asked you how long you had been in love with me, you said sixteen years."

The demon chuckled. "Couldn't very well say six thousand years, could I?"

"Oh, good Lord. I'm so ..." The "sorry" died against Crowley's lips.

THE END


End file.
